There are certain rules you have to play by in order to be a part of the Republican Party today, and one of the most important is never to say anything nice about Obamacare. Even if you are trying to push the party toward the center on Obamacare, you must pay fealty to the belief that the law is horrible and must be replaced. Ohio Republican governor John Kasich just committed the ultimate taboo:
Bad news for middle-aged moms: Colorado health officials are recommending a ban on most forms of marijuana edibles, after unceasing concerns over people confusing pot-laced goodies for the regular old stuff, the Associated Press reports. Those working on regulation worry that unlabeled products may confuse consumers, and are also considering a color-coding scheme or other ways to identify foods that will get you high.
Almost as soon as news broke a few weeks ago that the Sayreville War Memorial High School football season had been canceled owing to a hazing scandal, students took to Twitter to defend their town and the athletic program they believe unifies it. They rallied together online, dissing local news crews and the superintendent, planning pep-rally protests, and arguing over which colors to wear to school to represent their rebellion.
If you didn’t know better, you’d think that Laura Poitras’s "Meet Edward Snowden" documentary Citizenfour was an avant-garde paranoid conspiracy thriller. Hold on, it is an avant-garde paranoid conspiracy thriller. It opens with a blurry tunnel; winking monitors scrolling metadata plucked from Americans’ emails; images of huge, futuristic, otherworldy government surveillance centers; encrypted communications — flurries of characters — that resolve into edgy cyberdialogues between the National Security Agency whistleblower and the filmmaker; and, finally, exacting exchanges between Snowden and journalist Glenn Greenwald high up in a blankly modern Hong Kong hotel, which might or might not be bugged. The music by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross is like malignantly buzzing wires that eat into your cerebral cortex.
This woman at the airport last week wearing a DIY Hazmat suit (with her wrists still exposed) is not even the worst of it.
As the spread of Ebola within the United States continues to not happen — we repeat: Only one person has died and two nurses who were in direct contact with him are currently being treated — the string of uninformed overreactions grows longer by the day, and shows once again that Americans have no idea how African geography works, let alone how a non-airborne virus is transmitted.
Like millions of Americans, New York Knicks forward Amar’e Stoudemire enjoys a few glasses of wine each week. But Stoudemire isn’t drinking those merlots and cabernets — he is bathing in them. Last Wednesday, he posted a photo on his Instagram account in which he was covered up to his neck in what appeared to be red wine. The Insta’s caption read, in part, “Recovery Day! Red Wine Bath !!”
"My name is Monica Lewinsky, though I have often been advised to change it or been asked why on earth I haven't," the former White House intern told the Forbes "30 Under 30" summit in Philadelphia today. "I am still Monica Lewinsky."
Building off of her essay in Vanity Fair this summer, Lewinsky has relaunched her public persona — she's on Twitter now, too — as an advocate against online harassment. "Overnight I went from being a completely private figure to a publicly humiliated one. I was Patient Zero," she said. "The first person to have their reputation completely destroyed, worldwide, via the internet."
The mask created for the mummy of King Tutankhamun showcases a handsome young man with an aquiline nose and a perfectly maintained beard, and it is one of the most famous icons of ancient Egypt. But researchers recently discovered that the mask may have been an IRL Photoshop job, because the real King Tut was tut ugly.
Throughout this week, the Cut explores college life, from politics and identity to parties, sex, and style.
Frat Row at the University of Florida-Gainesville is a palm-tree-lined paradise. Each huge house, complete with manicured lawn, looks like it was plucked from an idyllic suburb and plopped onto this swamp-adjacent plot of land. On a weekday afternoon, I spot students playing pick-up basketball or sipping martinis in their yards, wearing artfully shredded jean shorts or neon pinnies. It’s quiet, but as I stroll around at 3 p.m. on a Wednesday, I’m convinced there must be a rager lurking somewhere just out of sight. After all, Gainesville consistently ranks in Princeton Review’s top 20 party-schools list, and tonight it will be host to the college-party video juggernaut "I’m Shmacked."